Lesley Truffle's Blog, page 6
September 25, 2022
The Night They Invented Champagne
The Night They Invented Champagne
‘Remember gentlemen, it’s not just France we are fighting for, it’s Champagne!’
Winston Churchill rallying the British during World War II.
When I was a child, my mother used to indulge in a champagne while playing vintage movie songs. Waltzing around the dining table she’d sing along to the lyrics of Gigi.
The night they invented champagne
It’s plain as it can be
They thought of you and me …
Nobody has definitively been able to establish who invented champagne – but the French monk Dom Perignon is thought to have invented champagne in 1697.
Personally I love the romance of Dom Perignon yelling, ‘Come quickly, I am tasting the stars!’
However, some British historians reckon in 1662 a scientist, Christopher Merrett, documented how to make sparkling wine.
As a child, it seemed to me that becoming an adult must be a marvellous thing, because it would involve a lot of champagne and much hilarity. So by the time I could legally drink, I’d already developed a predisposition to fine champagne.
At university most of my friends didn’t have the loot for French imported champagnes such as Perrier-Jouët or Veuve Clicquot, so we made do with Australian sparkling wines. Many were first-rate but others were dodgy and tasted suspiciously of aerated fruit syrups. But when I found vacation work as a nightclub cocktail girl, I diligently applied myself to learning all about French champagne and premium cocktails.
I was in heaven when I was promoted to creating the cocktails and popping champagne corks – instead of working the floor armed only with a flimsy tray, fending off the attentions of inebriated males.
Working alongside the barmen and having a metre width of polished oak between me and the clientele changed the game. Under the dim lights and the glittering backlit liqueur bottles, with a silver cocktail shaker firmly in hand, I felt like I’d finally attained adulthood. Boy, did I get that wrong!
I loved the apres work perks at the nightclub. In the midnight hours we’d sit around the empty club talking, laughing and having a cocktail or two.
On a recent trip to Tasmania I had a lovely time sampling the latest champagne offerings known as ‘Sparkling Wine’. Under a major EU agreement it’s illegal to label any product as Champagne unless it comes from the Champagne wine region of France.
No matter. The French have their champagne, the Italians Prosecco, the Spanish Cava and the Germans Sekt. Apparently the English are still discussing the naming dilemma.
Meantime winemakers in Australia just get on with the job of producing wonderfully sublime sparkling wines. The name doesn’t matter.
And in Tasmania, winemakers are experimenting and producing magnificent sparkling wines in their cool climate vineyards. Subsequently Tasmanian sparkling wine has become known internationally as something very special.
For as 20th century playwright, composer, actor, lyricist and director Noel Coward put it,
‘Why do I drink champagne for breakfast? Doesn’t everyone?’
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September 21, 2022
Just Breathe
During the pandemic shutdowns many of us dreamt of whispering trees and rustlings in the grass. City parks, bayside beaches and even narrow nature strips were heaving with citizens doing their allocated exercise time. Outdoor personal trainers became astonishingly popular.
Some joggers – who were used to having the green spaces to themselves – expressed their discontent at having to share. One journalist wrote an article on how pissed off he felt. He was utterly contemptuous of young adults who were swarming the parks in search of potential ‘dates’.
The journalist’s stinging description of young women clad in skimpy leisurewear and bat-wing false eyelashes revealed his outrage. Apparently they regularly stopped on the pathways to chat with young males wearing branded sportswear. Such wickedness!
I thought – why the hell not? They were only trying to create a resemblance of social life after our city’s nightlife had been totally shut down.
When I was living and working near Tokyo quite a few years ago, I got to know a Japanese bullet train driver. Roshi was a witty joker, a rabid opera lover and a layback kind of guy. He drove trains on the Tōhoku Shinkansen line.
Roshi’s job carried a lot of responsibility and daily stress. To retain his sanity and well-being, he and his buddies regularly headed off to a forest region that featured natural hot springs.
Deep in the forest they’d set up camp, get naked and dig a hole big enough to fit them all in. Then they’d sit there late into the night, drinking iced beer and talking shite as the hot springs worked their magic.
Roshi laughingly told me that getting rat-faced on premium beer was crucial to the cure. It facilitated communication not just with his buddies, but with Mother Nature herself.
Shinrin-Yoku – known as forest bathing has gone mainstream. The idea is you simply walk into a forest, relax and let go. Cold beer and hot springs are not mandatory. Many converts believe forest bathing can lead to feelings of well-being, reduced stress and nourishing rejuvenating benefits.
When I visited Dorrigo National Park some time ago I thought a lot about Shinrin-Yoku. The rainforest is situated about 60 kilometres south-west of Coffs Harbour, in the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia World Heritage Area.
The Dorrigo Rainforest is known for being the habitat of rare and threatened species. There are numerous ground dwelling birds, including lyrebirds. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to see any but I was chuffed to hear that there are red-necked pademelons, and coloured wompoo fruit-dove hiding out in the forest.
As we walked through the undergrowth, I read the warning signs the forest rangers had put up. There were cunning plants that might spike us and an extensive list of the voracious insects eager to chomp into our flesh.
The forest is also home to plants such as strangler figs, giant stinging trees and prickly ash. After a while my imagination seized control and the benign rustling noises became venomous snakes slithering through the fallen leaves.
So, did I manage to breathe in the forest and achieve a state of Zen relaxation? Hell no, I didn’t but I loved being in the presence of 600-year-old trees, breathing the pristine air and listening to the native birds chortling and carrying on.
Just remembering those trees can bring on a meditative state of calm. But it only works if I close my eyes and totally focus on slow deep breathing. Five slow counts of breath in … hold for slow three counts … exhale … repeat … again & again …
photo: Landscape at sunrise near Mole Creek, Tasmania.
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August 26, 2022
Sailor’s Superstitions
‘I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.’
Louisa May Alcott
‘The sea finds out everything you did wrong.’
Francis Stokes
I’ve always been fascinated by the tradition of breaking a bottle of champagne over the bow of a ship being launched. It must be stressful for the person doing the bottle smashing. For there’s a maritime superstition that if the bottle doesn’t break it’s a bad omen. And lives could be lost at sea.
There’s a marvellous Boston Globe photograph dating from 1963, of Ethel Kennedy launching a ship. Wearing white pearls and decorous white gloves, she’s belting the hell out of a champagne bottle – with a wide smile, clenched teeth and eyes tightly shut.
The tradition stems from an ancient custom. A ship or large boat, being launched for the first time, absolutely had to have wine poured on its deck to appease the all-powerful gods of the sea.
The ancient Egyptians, Romans and Greeks also offered gifts to their gods in the hope of protecting their ships and the sailors onboard.
Long ago, warships were supposedly blessed with good luck if the keel of the warship was splashed with the blood of your enemies. This led to some extremely cruel and barbaric practices.
Fortunately by the nineteenth century, wine became the preferred option instead of human blood. However whisky, brandy and other spirits were also splashed liberally over ships and boats. But during America’s Prohibition the fun went out of it and water and fruit juice were used instead of premium booze.
Many bizarre maritime superstitions have evolved over the centuries. Having women onboard was believed to bring bad luck. After all, the sailors would become distracted by their presence and the ship would be in danger. Really?
But fortuitously the sight of a naked woman supposedly calmed an angry sea. This goes some way to explaining the popularity of sailing ships in the late eighteenth century being equipped with carved figureheads of bodacious beauties.
Many had bare breasts, slender naked waists and long flowing hair. Sensual sea nymphs and mermaids were frequently used to support the main figurehead. In earlier centuries figureheads usually featured mythical creatures, birds, animals, gods and goddesses.
Another sailor’s superstition was that whistling into the wind should be avoided, as you could well be whistling up a storm. It was also considered bad luck to change the name of a ship. The only way to solve the problem was to have a de-naming ceremony and then christen the ship all over again.
Strangely enough having bananas onboard was feared as much as allowing women onboard. The superstition dated back to around the 1700’s when many sea vessels transporting bananas met with disaster.
However pineapples were looked upon favourably. Ship’s captains returning from the Caribbean would stick a pineapple on the fence of their home. It signified that the captain was home safely and his neighbours were invited to eat, drink and make merry while he told tales of his adventures.
Frank Hurley’s photo (above) is of Perce Blackbarow and ‘Mrs Chippy’. He was a male tabby cat and best mate of Henry ‘Chippy’ McNeish. They lived in a cottage in Glasgow called Mole Catcher’s House.
Chippy McNeish was a Scottish carpenter and master shipwright. He and his cat went to sea together. Mrs Chippy got his name because he followed Chippy around like a devoted wife.
Mrs Chippy and McNeish sailed with Ernest Shackleton on his ill-fated expedition to the Antarctic on the Endurance in 1914.
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August 17, 2022
Hotel Ghosts
For the last few days I’ve been doing a road trip around South Tasmania, while staying in a lovely hotel in Hobart’s wharf area. The area is rumoured to be fantastically ghost ridden.
About 150 years ago the area around the wharf was known as Wapping. Folk who lived here worked in the nearby factories. There were jam factories, tanneries, ice factories, soap manufacturing, gasworks and a slaughterhouse near the Hunter Street wharf.
Wapping was considered by outsiders to be a depraved slum and red light area. But apparently the residents saw it differently. It was a functioning community and there were milliners, a butcher, a school and a resident lawyer.
Hobart Town had a reputation for crime and vice. It was based around a natural port and there were many pubs and numerous sex workers doing brisk business. Cashed up seamen coming into port expected their sexual needs would be met. They were not disappointed. Whalers and British troops were also present in large numbers.
‘There was a high influx of sailors and whalers who would be living away for many months and then they get off their ships and some drank themselves to death.’ (ABC Curious Hobart)
MACQ hotel in Hunter Street is billed as a ‘Story Telling’ hotel. Each room is dedicated to a particular local character and most of them are distinctly and delightfully dodgy.
My room is dedicated to the ghost of Mr Thomas Dewhurst Jennings who made himself famous as The Biggest Man in Australia. Just inside the room is a spot lit photograph of Dewhurst proudly straddling two spindly dining chairs and gazing at the camera with great confidence.
In the 1880’s he weighed 32 stone & was five foot ten. Fortunately my hotel room is quite capacious, so I’m not falling over Jenning’s ghost in the midnight hours.
He was a local publican, who also owned a successful business transporting people across the river by punts. Not only was he big and strong but he was also a shameless self-promoter.
Thomas Dewhurst Jennings became a national celebrity. When he visited the mainland he immediately became a popular sensation. Receptions and dinners were held in his honour and he was provided with free admission to important public events. His large presence usually increased ticket sales.
When hotel guests at the MACQ Hotel get in the lift we are treated to theatrical recordings of voices. One female character keeps yelling ‘The train is com…mmming … Stop the train!’
I seem to get her an awful lot. You can usually pick the new hotel guests as they tend to get a tad jumpy when the voices kick in.
May the ghosts of Hunter Street’s past continue to haunt Hobart’s wharves.
photo: the man himself – Mr Thomas Dewhurst Jennings – known to his adoring public as ‘The Biggest Man in Australia.’
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July 28, 2022
Turn on, tune in, drop out
‘I am 100 percent in favor of the intelligent use of drugs, and 1,000 percent against the thoughtless use of them, whether caffeine or LSD. And drugs are not central to my life.’
Timothy Leary, American Psychologist 1920-1996
Drugs have a tendency to become fashionable and then fall from favour. In the late 1800’s Sigmund Freud openly supported the use of cocaine as a tool for exploring the human psyche. At the time cocaine was expensive but freely available from pharmacies as erythroxyline. It was quite the done thing for clinical researchers to experiment on themselves.
In 1884 Freud wrote a paper on the merits and joys of cocaine titled, Über Coca. He wrote it as ‘a song of praise’ and described his first experience with Cocaine as, ‘the most gorgeous excitement’.
Timothy Leary became famous in the 1960’s as a proponent of the therapeutic and spiritual benefits of LSD. He was a American psychologist, counterculture icon, computer software designer and author. He advocated the use of psychedelic drugs and worked on the Harvard University Psilocybin Project in the early 60’s.
Timothy Leary coined the saying, ‘Turn on, tune in, drop out’. It didn’t go down too well. He was sacked from Harvard, ostensibly over his research methods. He was a polarizing figure – regarded by many as a man of science and by others as someone akin to the Devil.
However, Jack Kerouac’s buddy Allan Ginsberg – who wasn’t adverse to mind altering drugs – called Leary ‘a hero of American consciousness’.
President Richard Nixon despised Timothy Leary. When he launched his ‘War on Drugs’ Nixon went after him with a vengeance and had Leary jailed in 1973. Nixon felt that drugs were ‘anti-American’. Yet he invited Elvis Presley to the White House in 1970, to present him with an honorary narcotics officer badge (photograph above).
Presley came bearing a gift. It was a Colt .45 pistol mounted in a display case from his personal collection.
‘The narc badge represented some kind of ultimate power to him,’ Priscilla Presley wrote in her memoir, Elvis and Me. ‘With the federal narcotics badge, he [believed he] could legally enter any country both wearing guns and carrying any drugs he wished.’
After decades in the wilderness, hallucinogenics such as LSD are back in fashion. Seven years ago Rolling Stone reported that ‘microdosing LSD’ was the ‘creativity enhancer of choice’ for tech start-up workers in San Francisco. It was thought to enhance creativity and boost mood.
Microdosing involves regularly taking tiny amounts of a psychedelic drug such as LSD or hallucinogenic ‘magic’ mushrooms. Currently microdosing research is being conducted by researchers at established universities around the globe.
But as David Nutt, professor of neuropsychopharmacology at Imperial College of London put it in 2019, ‘We still don’t have any agreed scientific consensus on what microdosing is – like what constitutes a dose, how often someone would take it, and even if there may be potential health effects.’
(Professor David Nutt quote from AGE newspaper article ‘Can microdosing boost creativity and wellbeing? Sorting fact from fantasy’ by Jewel Topsfield July 23 2022).
photo: Elvis Presley meets American President Richard Nixon 1970.
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July 14, 2022
Hollywood Dame Zsa Zsa Gabor
Hollywood Dame – Zsa Zsa Gabor
‘A man in love is incomplete until he has married. Then he’s finished.’
Zsa Zsa Gabor
In the fifties and sixties, Zsa Zsa Gabor became more famous for playing herself than the films, stage shows and television shows she appeared in.
Born in Budapest and educated at a Swiss finishing school, she set about monetizing her many charms in 1941 when she emigrated to America. Sári Gábor took on the name Zsa Zsa – probably from a character she played in an early film.
As TV host Merv Griffin wrote,
It’s hard to describe the phenomenon of the three glamorous Gabor girls and their ubiquitous mother. They burst onto the society pages and into the gossip columns so suddenly, and with such force, it was as if they’d been dropped out of the sky.
In an era blessedly devoid of social media, Zsa Zsa cunningly managed to stay in the public eye. She was regularly photographed at Hollywood social events and sought photo opportunities whenever possible. Journalists and photographers adored her – she always gave them sexy and savvy material to work with. Hell, the woman was witty and unashamedly herself.
Subsequently Gabor became known to the public as a woman who had a weakness for the institution of marriage and a taste for rich men bearing diamond gifts.
Her high visibility meant she came to the attention of rich men such as Conrad Hilton. He was 30 years older than Gabor ,who was 25 when he married her. Unfortunately despite his phenomenal wealth Conrad turned out to be a miser who treated her badly.
‘I soon discovered that my marriage to Conrad meant the end of my freedom. My own needs were completely ignored: I belonged to Conrad’.
Unfortunately over the course of nine marriages Gabor didn’t always choose wisely. Most unions were short lived and her marriage to actor Felipe de Alba, was annulled one day after the wedding. It came out that she was already married. No matter. Zsa Zsa looked fabulous in the photographs that immediately appeared in the press.
Her film credits included the bizarre Queen of Outer Space in1958, Moulin Rouge in 1951 and a modest part as a nightclub manager in Orson Welles classic film, Touch of Evil 1959.
Gabor also became popular on television talk and game shows as well as Gilligan’s Island, Bonanza, and Batman. She appeared in Bob Hope TV specials and flirted with David Letterman.
But what singled Zsa Zsa out from other blonde Hollywood beauties was she developed a cutting wit and excellent comic timing.
Unfortunately in her later years Zsa Zsa had a couple of serious car accidents. She also became embroiled in expensive legal matters and made several unwise financial investments.
Gabor’s last husband, Frédéric Prinz von Anhalt – born Hans Robert Lichtenberg – was 26 years younger. As an adult he’d paid to be ‘adopted’ by Princess Marie-Auguste von Anhalt so he could obtain a title.
Anhalt insisted Gabo knew his real identity and found his theatrics entertaining. He stayed with Zsa Zsa to the end of her life at 99, despite not being entirely faithful to her.
But as she’d already coolly noted,
‘Husbands are like fires. They go out when unattended.’
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June 29, 2022
Ayesha the Wonder Dog
‘Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I’ll tell you a story’
Scott Fitzgerald The Crack-Up
When I was a kid we had a dog named Ayesha. She was a Corgi with oversized ears, big personality and great intelligence. Ayesha had a male friend, a large, scruffy terrier called Sandy. They were inseparable. He visited Ayesha most days between nine and five. And was always made welcome.
Then one day something changed and Sandy no longer came around. He was still in the neighbourhood and I’d see him around. He was still friendly to me. But the two dogs virtually ignored each other. It was a mystery and nobody knew what had caused the split.
The modern dog has one hell of a good life. With the proviso that the dog lives in a pet orientated country like Australia and the owner treats them as a member of the family.
Australia apparently has one of the highest rates of pet ownership. And dogs are the number one pet. It’s been noted recently that there are more dogs in Australia than children under 15.
When I was a kid, dogs lived a very different life. For starters, the suburb I grew up in was an industrial suburb with open paddocks and unused land. And dogs were free range.
Dogs roamed around the streets unsupervised and went home when they felt like it. They had secret lives we didn’t know about. Our Corgi, Ayesha, accompanied us everywhere because we were free range children. On summer evenings when we were sent to bed early because we had visitors, it was our duty to escape. By climbing out the bedroom window.
I remember nearly breaking my neck as I lowered Ayesha down from a high window ledge. But being a smart dog she knew not to bark or whimper. Especially when we had to creep under the kitchen window. Moving quickly all fours, we could hear the adults conversing as they sucked down copious quantities of red wine. We were well aware that they were busy getting crapulous and we wouldn’t be missed.
Once we were out the gate, the streets were ours. The standout summer night was when a neighbour, Pearl, chased an unknown man down our street and stabbed him with a huge kitchen knife. He survived.
The police came and the matter was treated as a misunderstanding resulting in an accident. Even Ayesha knew that was adult shite. But no charges were pressed and Pearl wasn’t arrested. I adored Pearl, she was raising my good friend Michelle single-handedly. So I was really pleased she didn’t get thrown in the slammer.
Nobody bothered to explain to me what drove such a petite, charming, stylish young woman to publicly wield a murder weapon in the street.
But soon the gossip died down and nobody mentioned it again.
Photo: the author with Ayesha.
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June 26, 2022
Marriage is the Tomb of Love
‘The company … was far more likely to give pleasure than one made up of persons of quality, where gaiety freezes in the chill of etiquette.’
Casanova describing an evening spent with a group of actors.
Having just finished editing my fiction manuscript I’m taking some time off from writing. Winter is here and there’s nothing nicer than slipping into Casanova’s biography History of My Life.
With the rain beating down on the roof, I love getting cosy for an evening with a glass of champagne and Casanova’s entertaining life story. We travel the length and breadth of Europe in his carriage and I feel as though I’m there.
Casanova met just about everyone who had power or reputation in 18th century Europe including: Madame de Pompadour, Voltaire, Rousseau, King George III, Louis XV, Catherine the Great and Frederick the Great.
Unfortunately, Casanova’s name has become synonymous with womanizers, man whores, philanderers and rakes everywhere. He openly admits in History of my Life, to being ‘an unrepentant libertine’.
Giacomo Girolamo Casanova was a gambler all his life. He also had numerous other careers and was known as: a soldier, a spy, a preacher, a professional writer, a violinist, a silk manufacturer, a lottery director and an alchemist.
Born April 1725 in Venice, he graduated at seventeen with a law degree from Padua University. But frequently he was so destitute that he had to gamble and he became very good at it. Casanova loved to spend, so he alternated between extreme wealth and genteel poverty.
In Casanova’s memoirs there are many times when he recalls unleashing his charm, with the sole intention of bedding a woman. I’m using the term bedding somewhat loosely, given Casanova’s ability to fornicate just about anywhere. Frequently the situations he finds himself in are comedic, but he had the ability to laugh at himself and his wicked sense of humour permeates his writing.
Casanova found lovers in every social class: servant girls, dancers, countesses, shop girls, duchesses and aristocrats in all the European courts he visited. Some of his lovers preyed on his natural generosity and ruthlessly fleeced him.
He usually accepted women as equals, made sure they were satisfied sexually and was remarkably nonjudgmental – unless his lover or mistress was stupid enough to double cross him.
But Casanova was much more than an opportunistic seducer. His intelligence, charm, wit, and many talents set him apart from his contemporaries. When he fled from his creditors in Paris in 1760, he adopted the name Chevalier de Seingalt.
Casanova revelled in the high life of Europe’s royal courts as well as having genuine friendships with those deemed to be social degenerates – actors, dancers, musicians and other creatives.
He was a man who lived by his wits and because he tended to speak his mind, banishment and imprisonment plagued his life. Casanova was the first prisoner to ever escape the notorious prison in Venice, The Leads. He’d been incarcerated there by the Venetian State Inquisitors for his numerous ‘sins’. The story of his escape took well over two hours in the telling and all over Europe, many were eager to hear Casanova tell his story.
Having decided early on that, ‘Marriage is the tomb of love’ Casanova never got married. Many historians have asked, was he really the cold-hearted seducer of his legend? If his memoirs are to be believed – and to date they have largely been verified – he was an astute observer of his fellow human beings and Casanova brings his mistresses to life for the reader.
He lets us know that is his lover’s conversation, charm, beauty and character that brings him to his knees. By his own admission, this makes him their dupe. He mentions that he didn’t fancy most of London’s renowned courtesan’s because he couldn’t speak English on first visiting London. Sparkling conversation was of vital importance to him, ‘The thing is to dazzle’.
His pride frequently got him into dangerous situations. But Casanova had a wonderful sense of the ridiculous and he freely confessed his personal failings. Casanova used his sharp wit to rub his enemies up the wrong way. He was quick to draw his sword on those who’d insulted his honour. ‘Pinking’ them on the arse with his sword was his way of letting his anger be known.
Many of his business dealings are dodgy and the reader gets the impression that Casanova isn’t owning up to all the immoral things he did for money. He wasn’t above utilizing his extensive knowledge of the Cabala if it meant personal gain. The chapters dealing with his fleecing of a gullible aristocrat are deliciously wicked. And spies employed by the Venetian State Inquisition believed him to be a cardsharper.
Casanova wrote constantly: on the run, in prisons, carriages, palaces, low dives and grand hotels. It wasn’t until 1789 in retirement, at Count Waldstein’s Chateau in Bohemia, that he began writing his twelve volume memoirs.
I’ve read all twelve volumes and my personal preference is for Williard R. Trask’s translation. Casanova was an intellectual and an 18th century Enlightenment polymath, his expertise spanned a phenomenal number of subjects. But it’s Casanova’s wit, intelligence, humour, cunning and humanity that keep me coming back.
His tales of life in eighteenth century are totally engrossing. There’s nothing finer than travelling in a carriage across Europe with Giacomo Girolamo Casanova.
Photograph: Detail from an illustration by Umberto Brunelleschi from a 1950 edition of, Memories of Giacomo Casanova de Seingalt. Brunelleschi (1879 -1949) was an Italian printer, book illustrator, caricaturist, set and costume designer. He was educated at the Accademia delle Belle Arti in Florence and moved to Paris in 1900.
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May 17, 2022
Freud’s Cigar
Freud’s Cigar‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.’
Dr Sigmund Freud 1856 -1939.
Freud was a heavy cigar smoker and supposedly said, ‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar’. Many of his theories relate to uncontrolled libido and wild sexual impulses. Accordingly, his statement probably means a phallic-shaped object such as a cigar, doesn’t necessarily have to have any subtext. It just is.
In my novel The Scandalous Life Of Sasha Torte, Sasha is introduced to the famous Austrian neurologist Dr Sigmund Freud, at The Café Sperl in Vienna. Sasha Torte – world famous Tasmanian pastry chef – is very taken with the Vienna’s flamboyant ornate architecture. ‘It has much in common with grandiose wedding cakes.’
Café Sperl is a traditional Viennese cafe located at Gumpendorfer Strasse. Established in 1880, and located near theatres & opera houses, it attracted many Viennese creatives as well as military men.
Freud became known as the father of psychoanalysis. Psychiatrists, psychologists, journalists, feminists, historians and researchers have spent decades dissecting Freud’s theories but the debate still rages.
Much has been written about Freud. He’s been accused of everything from being an unrepentant womanizer and misogynist to fictionalizing his research – but there is no denying the fact that Freud continues to fascinate.
A measure of his fascination is that for several decades, stand-up comedians have utilized Freud’s theories to riff on the chaotic state of the human mind. And Freud’s Oedipus Complex theory, Dream Analysis and Wish Fulfillment have provided endless fodder for literature, film and the fine arts.
In high school I developed an unhealthy interest in Freud’s theories about the divided self. Put very simply, Freud’s theory is that we all have an Id (instincts, primitive wants and desires – your wild child), Ego (reality, tries to juggle logic and reason – your grown-up self) and Superego (morality, philosophical and morals – your quest for perfection).
I found it soothing to think that my problems might be due to the fight going on inside me between my Id, Ego and Superego. It also helped explain what the hell was going down with the derailed adults around me. But fortunately I later decided there were many other strange factors contributing to divorce, adultery, domestic violence, dedication to hard liquor and wild boar hunting.
While studying Psychology at university I developed an interest in Freud’s clinical work; treating patients through psychoanalysis to ease anxiety and depression rather than resorting to radical medical intervention. Psychoanalysis was revolutionary in the late 1800’s when many ‘hysterical ’ women were being coerced into having surgery on their genitals to ‘normalize ‘ their emotional state.
Dr Freud also developed therapeutic techniques such as free association; His patients would talk about what was topmost in their minds and allow Freud to analyze what it all meant. He was big on subtext and hidden meanings.
Despite his intense seriousness Freud was an interesting and complex man. He not only fathered six children within eight years to his wife, Martha Freud, but he dabbled in cocaine and fought bitterly with his friend and colleague, Carl Jung.
Bizarre photographs exist of the two men bonding on a rather gloomy expedition to the Arctic and an African big game hunting safari. Jung looks dismayed posing for the camera with Freud, lethal weapons and their big game booty.
Freud openly supported the use of cocaine as a tool for exploring the human psyche. At the time cocaine was expensive but freely available from pharmacies as erythroxyline. And it was quite the done thing for clinical researchers to experiment on themselves.
Cocaine may have influenced Freud’s work The Interpretation of Dreams; for Freud believed dreams were, ‘the royal road to the unconscious’. In 1884 he wrote a paper on the merits and joys of cocaine titled, Über Coca. He wrote it as ‘a song of praise’ and described his first experience with Cocaine as, ‘the most gorgeous excitement’.
Some writers – including researcher Dominic Streatfeild – believe that Freud was responsible for popularizing the use of cocaine. Streatfeild wrote, ‘If there is one person who can be held responsible for the emergence of cocaine as a recreational pharmaceutical, it was Freud.’
But like most things relating to Freud, there is still no real agreement. Was Freud a raving coke fiend hell bent on destroying his nasal passages? Or was he simply a dedicated and intrepid researcher?
Photo: photo collage by Lesley Truffle – Dr Sigmund Freud and his cigar .
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May 11, 2022
Italian Style
Italian film directors produce diverse and wonderful films. Paolo Sorrentino is one of my favourite directors. Sometimes I watch the exuberant party scene from La Grande Bellezza (The Great Beauty) when I’m feeling a bit sad and need to recalibrate.
Fellini’s, La Dolce Vita is a magnificent film. Released in 1960, set in Rome and starring Anita Ekberg and Marcello Mastroianni it has many layers of meanings. The film lends itself to repeated viewings. La Dolce Vita has a wonderful lightness and wit that’s often missing in many contemporary films.
I have a thing for Italian Fiats. I once owned a second-hand Fiat Sports that been driven to the brink of ruin. The previous owner was a nurse with a taste for speed and a strong belief in amateur car repairs.
Subsequently the wiring under the bonnet was strapped up with flimsy tape or rusty wire and the engine’s parts were decrepit. I tried not to peer under the hood too often as it didn’t inspire confidence.
I loved my Fiat Sports but quickly discovered that the only thing that worked was the premium sound system. This proved quite useful, because I was forever sitting in the damned car waiting for a road service repair guy to arrive and get me going.
The consultation usually involved triage. The repair guy had to consider all manner of mechanical problems and then try to determine the most likely suspect. This usually occurred during torrential rain.
But you should have seen the Fiat Sport’s interior! It was all red leather, dashing 007 style dials, racy steering wheel and elegant trim.
However, my favourite Fiat remains the Fiat 500. Years ago I owned a semi restored original. Marketed as the Bambino or the Cinquecento, the original Fiat 500 is famous for its ‘utilitarian and compact design’. A publicist’s way of saying it was rather on the small size.
My current Fiat 500 is a recent model. Marcello is a handsome beast with a black soft top that folds all the way back. I named him, Marcello, in honour of the late, great Marcello Mastroianni.
When I asked the Fiat dealer why my new Cinquecento had a strange looking pair of racing gear paddles attached to the steering column, Roberto murmured, ‘Because we Italians like to drive fast.’
We grinned sideways at each other, because nobody could ever accuse the cheeky Fiat 500C of presenting itself as a muscle car.
However, I soon discovered that the contemporary version of the Fiat 500 is a gutsy animal. It has a loud, rude horn and a fast take off speed that can be quite disconcerting.
The loud horn is useful when dealing with road bullies. They frequently fail to give way, cut me off at roundabouts and freeways and seem hell bent on crushing Marcello beneath their big fat tyres.
The earlier model Bambinos only had 499cc of power. The heater was an open hole that could be uncovered, providing warmth and fumes from the engine. And the sunroof had to be manually unclipped and folded backwards.
The open sunroof provided an invitation for truck drivers to lean down from their mountain beasts, peer through the Bambino’s open roof and make witty and flirtatious remarks.
Interestingly enough, truck drivers are unfailingly polite about giving way to Marcello. The other day a truck driver kindly held up all the traffic so I could get across a busy intersection. He coolly ignored the impatient car drivers banking up behind his truck. He made my day.
My first second-hand Fiat 500, was as hardy as a mountain goat. Even with three people and a large dog crammed into the tiny seats. When I was acting with a theatre troupe, we’d finish rehearsing, pile into my Fiat Bambino and head into the Adelaide hills to visit the fantastic wineries.
It was a golden time – kicking back, sipping young wines and laughing like hyenas about everything that could possibly go wrong on opening night.
La dolce vita indeed.
Photograph: screen shot of Anita Ekberg in Frederico Fellini’s masterpiece, ‘La Dolce Vita’ 1960.
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